Nope, that's not my grandson.

I have, more than once, opened mouth and inserted foot.  Once, while walking a 5k race, I commended a woman for competing while pregnant only to be told, “ I’m not pregnant.”  Yes, I hustled away from her.  I’ve made a jerk of myself more than once, so I get it.   I guess that’s why I don’t get too bent out of shape when people ask if my son is my grandson.

No, he isn’t.  Yes, I look old for 40.  Yes, that sucks.  I started going gray when I was 23, and for about a decade I colored it over with various shades of dark brown and black but then I decided I liked it.  I was going to “embrace the gray.”  So for 7 years I let it go, and the gray that initially just hugged my temples soon spread throughout my head, covering me in a crown of glory. 

I got pregnant at 38 and chuckled throughout the pregnancy at the notes on my medical chart.  Much to my amusement, one chart was labeled, “ Geriatric pregnancy.”  Felt right, it matched my hair at least.  Physically, I don’t feel THAT much different than I did at 17, so it never mattered to me.  It really irritated my son’s father, but I suppose that’s because he is even older than me.

The truth of the matter is, some of my best friends are grandparents at my age, and so it isn’t that much of a shock that people make the assumption.  Still, we shouldn't assume, should we? 

One lady, however, really takes the cake.  My son was 3 months old and I was nursing him under a cover in a restaurant.  Only his little feet were sticking out.  He came up for air, burped and switched sides all the while receiving comments and looks from a woman at a nearby table.  “He is so cute!”  “Awww so little, how old is he?”  

Finally, he finished his meal and I brought him to my shoulder for a nap and then she finally did it.  The one thing I imagined that this lady, who had just witnessed an entire breastfeeding adventure would never ask.  She did it anyway, “ Is this your grandson?”

I still laugh at that, everytime someone asks, and it really doesn’t matter how polite they are when they ask, or how they hint around it.  By now, when someone asks, “ and whose little one is this?”  I know what they are thinking. 

Yes.  He’s mine.  Yes, I’m 40 and he’s almost 2.  Yes, I look older than 40.  Yes, if I could have another, I would.  He is the most amazing person I’ve ever met and yes, if I could have met him at 25 or 30 that would have been great… but when I was 25 and 30, I wasn’t ready for him and any child I had at that point, wouldn’t be this one.  I am so glad I waited, I am glad I am financially and emotionally stable.  I am glad Troy is my son, nothing could have been as wonderful as him. 

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